The Smallest Things
by Zimothy
Summary: Castiel may not seem like he pays attention to the things Dean loves, but he does - because he loves Dean.


Between searching for Sam's soul and dealing with Crowley and his ever-present desire for monsters, Dean can barely force himself to smile some days. Sam's been gone for the past four hours - apparently searching down leads for a hunt that he won't even tell Dean about, and Dean's been stuck in the hotel room tossing a tennis ball at the wall that keeps thudding from the rigorous fucking of the people next door.

There's a whispering flutter of wings and Dean's tennis ball is caught mid-air by Castiel, who's standing and watching him with a curious tilt of his head. Dean sits up.

"Nice of you to drop by today, Cas." He starts gruffly, irritation plucking at his chest for no discernable reason. He shifted, standing to snatch the ball from Castiel's lose-fingered grasp. Cas lets him, mouth pursing.

"There's been a lull in battle, I'm taking this opportunity to check in on you and your brother."

"That thing is not my brother." Dean snapped back, bristling. Castiel's gaze fell away for a second. He looked back up just as quickly, locking eyes with Dean.

"My apologies, Dean." He muttered gravely. Dean huffed out a sigh, tossing the tennis ball onto his duffel bag and sitting on the bed. He had too many things swirling around in his head, too many negative emotions that made it hard to even enjoy a chance to relax without the threat of _something_ looming overhead.

Deam released a weary breath, hand running over his face to try and wipe away some of the stress building up inside of him.

"Its fine." He snapped, making it obvious that his situation was not, in fact, okay. Castiel's brows furrowed, lips pressing together tightly.

"You're stressed." He pointed out, causing Dean to release a startled, dry laugh.

"Y'think?" He croaked. Castiel tilted his head to the side and Dean stood up, crossing the room and fumbling in his bag for his cell phone. He flipped it open, scowling at the lack of messages from robo-Sam and snapping it shut once more. Turning on his heel, Dean barely registered Castiel's fingers coming towards his face before he was hit with the vertigo sensation that came with angel-express.

One second they'd been in the current crap motel of the week, and the next, Dean was surrounded by darkness and thousands of voices screaming. He jumped, grabbing onto Castiel to get his bearings - looking around frantically, momentarily convinced he'd just been dropped back into Hell.

Castiel placed a gentle hand on Dean's elbow to steady him as the elder Winchester took in the expansive stage just a handful of feet in front of him, and the large, writhing crowd behind them.

"Cas! What the he-… oh my god." Dean's angry yell instantly broke off into a sound of horrified disbelief, eyes locked on the stage. Robert Plant stepped up to the microphone with a grin, eyes raking across the crowd.

Dean reached out to Castiel, clutching the angel's coat and pulling on it wildly. "Cas- what. Is that _Robert Plant_?" He squeaked. (though Dean was loathe to admit it later) Castiel leaned in, mouth brushing Dean's ear.

"Seeing as how its 1975, yes, Dean. It is." He said, voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. Dean's eyes widened even more - if possible - and he released a broken whimper, mouth gaping open. He snapped his head back to Castiel as Robert Plant spoke to the crowd, screams of joy echoing around them.

"Are we- am I dreaming?" He cried, relentless in his white-knuckled grip on Castiel's coat. Castiel's response was a serene half smile and a shake of his head.

"No, Dean. You are very much awake right now." He replied, voice raising to be heard over the cacophony of noise. A laughing sob escaped Dean, the hunter turning to the stage with a look of rapture, his grin so wide Castiel was sure his cheeks would start to ache soon. Robert Plant gestured to Jimmy and the others as John Bonham struck up the beat. Dean let out a small cry of happiness as the beginning chords of _The Ocean_ came echoing through the speakers.

Dean didn't say much after that, his eyes glossy with unshed tears and his eyes locked on the stage with so much light in his face, it was impossible for Castiel to keep the smallest of grins off of his lips. Dean's soul was vibrant, pulsing and shining with more happiness than the angel had seen in him for months. He didn't bother speaking, keeping a hand on Dean's upper back to steady him whenever the crowd got too rowdy, and watched Dean watch the band he'd listened to his entire life, but never had the chance to truly experience.

During a lull between songs, Dean turned to Castiel, a hand rising to wipe at his eyes. "Thanks, man." He croaked, sobbing out a laugh and then reaching out to wrench Castiel into a tight, full body hug. Castiel hesitantly rose his arms to wrap them around Dean's stomach, palms resting on the man's back as Dean started to laugh - full body chuckles only broken by sniffling.

Dean pulled back after a final powerful squeeze, clapping his hands on Castiel's shoulders.

"Man, don't ever let me call you a dick again, you hear me?" He said, face flushed and eyes bright with the force of his smile. Castiel grinned back - though more subdued - and nodded.

"I will make sure to do that." He said seriously, though he couldn't help the glint of teeth that came with the smile Dean practically forced upon him.

Dean scrubbed at his face again, turning to watch the rest of the concert. "Dream come true, man." He muttered in awe - and Castiel wouldn't have heard him if he hadn't specifically tuned into Dean the second they'd shown up at the concert.

Watching Dean made something swell in Castiel's grace, a warmth so strong it made the tips of his fingers tingle and his heart ache. He reveled in it, happy to know that he could show Dean even the smallest sliver of love that he held for the hunter.

—

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE. FFU-


End file.
